Serpentine
by Yih
Summary: IC. [Slash HPDM] The real reason Harry Potter wasn't killed by Voldemort was because he was HIS son. Taken by Voldemort to be raised by his most trusted servant, Lucius Malfoy, Harry has grown up to be a powerful, dark, and eclectic young man.
1. Prologue: The Last Prophecy

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Beta'd by Blackumbrage

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches  
__Born to those that have thrice defied him  
__Born as the seventh moon dies  
__And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,  
__But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not  
__And either must die at the hand of the other  
__For neither can live while the other survives  
__The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord   
__Will be born as the seventh month dies…"  
__From **J.K. Rowling's **Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

Prologue  
_The Lost Prophecy_

THE LIGHTENING BOLT scar slashed across the infant's forehead as the _Avada__ Kedavra _curse rebounded off and spun dizzyingly into the one that had cast the Killing Curse. Voldemort knew that death was inescapable and when he unexpectedly found himself still there moments after the curse should have killed him, because there was no way that he could have survived a Killing Curse he had cast himself…, he knew that something was very wrong.

Harry Potter stared at him with his wide innocent _green_ eyes, eyes that were _his_ shade of vivid green. Voldemort scowled. There was only one explanation why his Unforgivable had failed. He had recalled reading in the tome, _Of the Inheritance of Salazar Slytherin, _that Salazar had placed a powerful curse or was it a blessing on his future heirs? No heir could harm another heir without severe repercussions. No wonder the Killing Curse hadn't killed him, he mused thoughtfully. The protection must work both ways. And yet what about the repercussions he was supposed to face?

There was something off about Harry Potter's gaze. The baby wasn't staring at him, he was staring through him. Voldemort glanced behind him and saw, dispassionately, the dead body of what had been the baby's mother. As he gazed at her shock of red hair, he vaguely remembered raping a witch by that color hair many months earlier. He had thought it had been a Weasley bitch, but perhaps he was mistaken. So was this then his son, he turned back to the marked baby, and moved to take the child into his hands _for he was not about to leave a possible heir here_ when his hand passed through the child.

Were he the type to be prone to stupid, foolish Gryffindor temper tantrums he would have screamed the roof off Godric's Hollow. Instead, he glared intensively at the child who had caused all this unwittingly and was slightly taken back when the baby looked up at him. There was something burning in those green eyes. "Ma," the baby whimpered. "Maaaaa."

The child was crying. Voldemort hated the sound of children crying. He remembered long ago, back in the terrible days of his youth of how he would cry for someone to pay attention to him. He knew what crying brought. It brought hard hands. It brought pain and intolerance. It brought the wicked ways of man. Something wicked this way comes, he thought bitterly, if the tears kept coming.

_Silencio_, he hissed, putting the power of his thought behind the words that had no sound and he felt the baby recoil slightly and quieted. So he still had magic, did he? A push of force he had if nothing else? _Wingardium__ Leviosa. _The child was raised, gradually. By his willpower, he moved the child to him and then he _apparated__._

-

NO ONE KNEW what had become of You Know Who. There were rumors that he had been vanquished, but who possibly could have been strong enough to defeat the strongest wizard of all time? Some would contest that he was not the strongest, merely one of the strongest, as Albus Dumbledore was truly the strongest. One would never know, would one? The last time Albus Dumbledore had dueled with the Dark Lord, well that had been dozens of years before when he was known by another name, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Speculation abounded in the wizarding world, but the only thing anyone really knew was that for some reason You Know Who was gone and many of his loyal followers had renounced him in various ways or another. Many had believed that Lucius Malfoy had been the Dark Lord's right hand man, but here was the proud and pureblood Malfoy standing in front of the council to proclaim his innocence in all matters with Veritaserum.

"What is your name?"

"Lucius Maximus Malfoy"

"Who is your wife?"

"Narcissa Black Malfoy."

"Were you," began a hag of a witch, "a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Were you under any influences at all as a Death Eater?"

"Imperius."

A few gasps from those of the jury. "Did You Know Who force you to do anything under Imperius?"

"Rape," crowd flinches, "torture," crowd recoils, "and kill those that were against him as well as those of muggle blood."

"Who are the…"

"Council," Lucius's counsel spoke up, "I believe that my client has answered the questions agreed to before taking the Veritaserum and an additional question that had not been agreed to. I request the questioning be terminated."

The hag scowled, but she could not protest what the defendant's counsel was saying. It was true, the only reason Lucius had agreed to go under the Veritaserum was if the questions would be drawn up beforehand for his approval. He had already answered one more question than had been agreed to. The fact he had done it underneath the most powerful truth potion known in existence only further strengthened him against any consequences with his dalliance in the Death Eater ranks if his Malfoy name couldn't get him off scot free.

"Counsel's request is upheld. The jury will adjoin for their verdict," cackled Umbridge.

Fudge rested his wand down and proclaimed it so.

-

HE WAS DECLARED innocent of all wrong doing and was set free. Voldemort knew that would be the case, which was why he had planned for Lucius to be able to answer all the questions as a thread of truth. The interesting thing about Veritaserum that he had discovered was that the truth must be told, but truth could be twisted to being something that was true but wasn't the full truth.

"My Lord," Lucius spoke submissively, "what you have asked has been done."

Out of smoke and air, words formed: _I expected no less._

"The child is being cared for. The Longbottoms were disposed of, as you requested, though the boy and his grandmother were not there."

_I said extermination._

"We will find them."

_No._

"No? My Lord?"

_I will deal with them. You must be above reproach. The boy is important. _

Lucius bowed his head low. "I understand, My Lord."

_The book I have left. _

"He will be a true Slytherin, I swear."

-

SOMEONE HAD HIDDEN the Longbottoms underneath the Fidelius Charm, much like the Potters before them. Someone knew that he wanted Neville Longbottom dead. Someone had figured out that Neville _and not _Harry may be the child of prophecy. That someone was Albus Dumbledore. If only the wards of Hogwarts were not so strong, he might have tried to step onto the grounds. But Hogwarts was warded against him and in his bodiless state he was not as powerful as he had been.

The boy, _his heir_, was safely sheltered in the magnificence that was Malfoy Manor. Harry was marked, and marked as equal, would that then suffice the prophecy of the crazed bint? What had occurred was strangely fitting, but he did not find it _satisfactory. _Precaution never hurt, and his rat of a servant had finally tracked down the missing Longbottoms to the Shrieking Shack.

The old woman knew when he entered. He may not have a physical body, but he appreciated that she could feel the dark power that was gathering around him as he was about to release an Unforgivable upon her. _Avada__ Kedavra, _unfortunately, he did not have the power to muster in his spiritual being. _Imperius_was possible. _Imperio__, _he shoved into her gut. _Kill the boy. _

The grandmother turned to the grandson, a whimpering thing that was keening for her to pick him up and hold him again. She pointed her wand at the boy and the beginning of the deadly Unforgivable was at the tip of her tongue. Voldemort frowned. She was fighting it. _Kill him now. _

_"Avada Kedavra…" _

A true back turning Killing Curse hit the old woman where she stood and skewered her body into the corner where she collapsed, dead. A perfect opportunity wasted, and he could hear someone coming. So this boy was the boy. Was he? An identical lightening bolt scar had appeared on the boy's cheek that had been on Harry's forehead. This time what protection had saved him? Slytherin's blood had saved Harry, but what then of Neville's?

Or, his being burned, was he wrong and it was Harry that was the true cause?

_He will have **power** the Dark Lord knows not  
__And either must _die_ at the hand of the other  
__For neither can live while the other survives_

He must think on things. It was foolish to act thusly as he had. He had been stupid. It was time for him to be Tom Riddle Marvolo again. He had forgotten research and patience in his stint as Lord Voldemort. He would not do so again.

-

**Author's Note:** Chapters after this one will be regular length (about 3,000 words). If you enjoy this please review as I will only continue this story if I get sufficient interest. Otherwise it won't be continued. As you can tell, my initial plotting of the story is different than the way it turned out. Stories do that sometimes. I hope you've enjoyed it anyway. Thank you. Please review.


	2. Chapter One: The Boy is Slytherin

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine, and I do apologize for them.

And I sincerely offer my deepest apologies to J.K. Rowling for using exact quotes from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but there is no better way to put the quotes than the way she did them.

Chapter One  
_The Boy is Slytherin_

HE HAD FORGOTTEN that he was not a Malfoy again. Harry stood staring impassively at the mirror that reflected back his bony body, black hair, and green eyes. Lucius had told him he was a striking resemblance to the younger version of his father, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was an unpleasant reminder to Narcissa of the wizard that had taken her beloved sister away and nearly her husband. The bitch hated him.

Little did she know, did she? That his father, who she disparaged daily, was very much alive and was all too willing to end her existence if Lucius hadn't prevented it. What Lucius saw in the vapid bitch, Harry did not understand. He was fond of his foster father, fond enough of his foster father to pretend politeness to the bitch when she dripped of venom for him. Did she think her clever guise hid the hatred in her eyes? Think again bitch.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Lucius called, his voice didn't have any warmth in it. Harry didn't expect that from his foster father. Lucius was the typical Malfoy, born and bred to be as cold and as elegant as was wizardly possible. It was simply not in a Malfoy to be warm or kind or friendly. It was in them to be icy, haughty, and arrogant. Those were characteristic traits that Harry was pleased to say, he had picked up with an ease as if he had really been born a Malfoy instead of being merely raised as one.

"In a minute, Lucius,"

"Draco and Narcissa are waiting," Lucius responded with a slight impatience that Harry knew Lucius was allowing him to hear. No Malfoy deliberately let emotion slip into their voices unless they wanted it to. Harry had learned that lesson too well, everything was about manipulation. If you couldn't manipulate yourself, how could you hope to manipulate others?

"Let them wait."

"Harry," Lucius began, coming up behind his foster son, his eyes showing a hint of fondness that always accompanied him when he was staring down at the lovely young boy, "you cannot be late." This was the son he would have been proud to call his own, though Draco was a more than adequate heir. "The train won't wait."

"One final touch," Harry murmured, glancing at the mirror as he whispered the complicated glamour charm that would let him successfully pose as a true Malfoy born. "Do I look all right, _father?_"

It was amazing how talented his Lord's son was, Lucius thought with pride and admiration. Brushing aside the blond hair that was the exact shade of Malfoy blond that had been acquire by careful blood breeding, he considered the scar that misshaped his _pretend _son. Harry had even managed to change his brilliant green eyes to a deep blue that might be attributed to Narcissa's family. "The scar cannot be helped, can it?"

"No," Harry responded tersely, "unfortunately."

"Harry Malfoy," Lucius murmured, "_my_ son."

Harry smiled at his perfect Malfoy reflection; he looked almost like a miniature Lucius and a beautiful mimic of Draco with blue instead of gray eyes. His glamour was faultless, and was at least as well done as Lucius's despite his age. While it was possible for Lucius to maintain his glamour while he was at Hogwarts, it would be hard to maintain that kind of magic transfer that would be required with the wards that school had surrounding it. No, it was better and safer if he maintained his own illusion.

"Lucius Malfoy," Harry whispered, "_my _father."

-

DRACO DIDN'T KNOW whether he ought to hate Harry or not. Despite the fact that Harry seemed to despise his mum, whom he dearly loved, Draco couldn't hate him for that. Harry was his brother, after all. It was clear to Draco's perceptive eyes that his mum encouraged and reciprocated the hatred. No, the only reason that Draco had for hating Harry was that Harry had his father wrapped around his finger the way Draco dreamed of.

But watching his father and Harry exchange a look of good-bye that was only between the two of them incited his inner jealousy. He knew better than to show any emotion. Of the two of them, it irked him that Harry was better at keeping the Malfoy composure than he was. He wasn't even born a Malfoy and yet he pulled off any Malfoy mannerisms with the grace of a true Malfoy. It was mildly infuriating and completely unfair.

Gritting his teeth together, he gave his mum a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She studied him with a cold detachment, but he saw the warm and concern lurking underneath the frigid gaze. His mother was better at hiding her feelings than he was, but she wasn't up to Lucius's or Harry's emotional aloofness. It comforted him to know that his mum cared for him dearly. It was almost enough to erase the bitterness he felt toward his father for ignoring him.

"Good-bye mother," he told her with polite disregard. "I will owl you."

"I expect you to," Narcissa responded with equal carelessness. "If you need anything, all you have to do is ask for it. I will see you when the holidays arrive. Good-bye, Draco."

Draco inwardly grimaced as he watched his mum turned to Harry and her features turned at least ten times more glacier. While he might feel less than friendly feelings to his younger brother at times, he still felt it was wrong for his mum to feel such strong hatred for his own flesh and blood. He didn't understand it, and whenever he tried to ask why it was so, he would be given a look that said _it was better if he did not ask. _

"You will listen to Draco," Narcissa declared coldly. "Do not disgrace the Malfoy name, Harry. If you do…"

"That's enough Narcissa," Lucius snapped with irritation. How were they supposed to keep up the façade that Harry was their son when Narcissa showed such open animosity against the boy? It wasn't the boy's fault that Bellatrix had been carted off to Azkaban, and it certainly wasn't the boy's fault that he was a Death Eater either. As it was, he suspected that Draco knew something was dreadfully wrong and the source of it was Harry. "Harry," he murmured, his voice almost kind, "we will see you at Christmas."

Harry nodded. "Good day, father, and," he turned to Narcissa and almost smirked because he knew and she knew that she was definitely _not_ his mother, "mother."

-

THEY WERE SITTING across from each other with identical looks of bored indifference when a chubby and flustered boy around their age slid open the door to their compartment and asked sheepishly, "Would you have happened to see my toad anywhere?"

Draco was sneering, and Harry felt it prudent to step in by saying first, "No, we have not. Do you know where you lost your toad?"

The boy with a curious scar on his cheek, who looked like he had been about to cow in the corner when he had seen the expression on Draco's face seemed to be immensely relieved when he heard Harry's kind inquiry. "No," he admitted, "I don't."

"Neville…" the boy stuck his head out of the compartment and when his head reappeared, a bushy head girl was standing next to him. "I still can't seem to find your toad," she informed him in a brisk businesslike tone. "I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced, "and you _are_?"

Harry was amused. "Harry Malfoy," he answered and tilting his head to his older brother, "and the boy behind me is my older brother, Draco Malfoy."

"A pleasure and this is Neville Longbottom," she replied, gesturing to the shy boy next to her. It was when he said his entire name that it dawned on Harry why the scar looked so familiar. So this was the boy that had supposedly survived the Killing Curse. It was odd how similar it looked to the very same scar that marked his forehead that he carefully hid beneath his bangs.

"The Boy Who Lived," Draco muttered, his eyes gazing disdainfully at Neville.

Whatever more Draco might have said was smothered by a warning look that Harry sent his older brother. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of a person that had survived the most unforgivable of Unforgivable as a mere babe. It struck Harry as ironic that Draco, who didn't have a smidgen of Gryffindor blood in him was more impulsive than he, who had the blood a mudblood Gryffindor running through his veins.

Tilting her head, Hermione's eyes flitted between the two of them. "Are you twins? You must be fraternal because you two don't look exactly the same."

"Excellent deduction," Draco mocked. "If you'd please leave our compartment, my brother and I would like to continue the discussion that you interrupted."

"What discussion?" Hermione inquired, curiously. "Is it about magic?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "What else?"

"I've already read all the spell books for first years," she informed him. "You are a first year, aren't you? Then are you discussing the magic that we're going to learn this year? I was thinking that there might be a spell, but I don't remember all of them, that we might be able to use to find Neville's toad."

"There is nothing in the first year books that would help us locate Neville's toad," Draco stated haughtily. "If you must know, there is a charm that would help retrieve his toad, but it is only taught to upper level students."

"Even though you know about it, if it's only taught to upper level students, I guess," she retorted, "you wouldn't know how to cast it would you?"

Draco flushed at her challenge and he withdrew his wand determinedly. Why was Draco letting a bushy hair know-it-all incite emotions that no Malfoy should feel? Harry jerked Draco's wand from his brother's hand and said instead, "My brother knows many things, but unfortunately you are right. He doesn't know upper level charms. I think the best way to find your toad would be to go ask one of the prefects if they could help you. They should know the charm that Draco mentioned."

Hermione smirked and nodded, dragging a helpless Neville with her to go find a prefect. "Thank you," she called back to him. "I don't know why I didn't think of that!"

"Why," Draco snapped when they had left, "did you prevent me from casting a charm you know perfectly well I know how to bloody cast?"

"Because," Harry responded coolly, "you lost control of your emotions, and it is hardly a Slytherin thing to go showing everyone how much more we know than they do. Slytherins are sly and cunning, and as such, they don't go showing all that they know when they shouldn't know it. Should they?"

Draco glared at his younger brother because he could, but his fury was abated. Harry was right. It was most un-Slytherin of him do try to show up all that they knew when they really shouldn't know it. But it wasn't like their father was going to let them come to Hogwarts unprepared, was he? No, they had been taught all the basics and a good deal more. Draco was proud of how good he was at Charms, though, he thought glumly it was nothing compared to what Harry could do. It was his rotten luck, that Harry was better than him at everything.

"That girl," Draco sneered, "was impossible."

Harry shrugged. "I found her amusing."

"You would."

-

DRACO AND HARRY had never seen eye to eye on many things, despite the fact that they had been raised in identical fashion even if they weren't identical twins. There were some differences though, Draco was Narcissa's favorite while Harry was Lucius's. Also there was the fact that one of them had to be older and Draco was proud of the fact that he was the elder of the two. As the older brother, he felt a vague sense of fear that even though Harry was very much a Malfoy, he also could act very un-Malfoy-like as his mum was always saying.

What Draco feared was that Harry would end up in a different house. Hufflepuff was impossible and Gryffindor was ludicrous, but Ravenclaw for his bookish younger brother was a very high possibility. There was nothing more that Harry liked to do than to spend time, to Draco's immense disgust, holed up in the immense library that Malfoy Mansion boasted of. Draco preferred to go out and about much like his mother and his brother's tendencies toward slinking in the shadows annoyed him.

However, Harry was Draco's brother and even though they didn't spend as much time as they should have as brothers, Draco didn't like the idea of his brother being in any house but Slytherin. If that were to happen, mum already didn't like Harry and to be sorted into a different house than the house both their parents had been in would be disaster. Of course, Draco thought resentfully, Lucius would still think Harry was perfect even if he were sorted into Ravenclaw. Draco would be the imperfect one.

"Harry," Draco snapped, "what are you doing?" His brother was bending over, picking something up and before he could digest what it was, the stupid pudgy boy from earlier was rushing toward them.

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed. "Thank you ever so much, Harry! How ever did you find it?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and handed the toad over to Neville. "It was on the ground."

Before Neville might thank Harry any more profusely, Draco's hand closed around Harry's and he jerked his brother to his side just as Professor McGonagall descended upon them with her beady eyes. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I trust that you had a good trip here and that you are ready for the start-of-term banquet. If you do not know, before you can start Hogwarts as a student you must be sorted into a house. The four houses are…"

Draco had heard all of this before and even if he hadn't, all he had to do was to ask Harry and Harry could recite word perfect information about each of the four houses as quoted directly from _Hogwarts, A History_. Mindlessly, he tuned her out until she finally began to lead them into the Great Hall. Once they were inside, Draco stared up with slight appreciation for the ceiling that was charmed to look like the sky. Next to him, he could sense more than see his younger brother's awe.

Glancing icily at Harry's detached feature, he could see nothing that would indicate that Harry found the sight impressive but he knew that his brother did. It must have been their bond as twins, Draco reflected solemnly. For twins, they were not very close at all. Draco had spent far more time with his mum than Harry, who had often been sequestered off to study the magic books that seemed to impress their father more than anything else did. At moments, it puzzled Draco and at other times, he regretted it.

At the center of the room Professor McGonagall placed an old, dusty and worn looking hat that appeared on its last thread on a stool. Draco could hear the mudbloods, correction _muggleborns_, whispering amongst themselves what that thing might be. That thing was the sorting hat and Draco predicted that whatever song it was going to sing was going to be dreadfully similar to sorting songs of past. It was a pity he wasn't wrong:

_"Oh, you may not think that I'm pretty,  
__But don't judge on what you see,  
__I'll eat myself if you can find,  
__A smarter hat than me…"_

-

THE HOLD ON his hand was close to the point of pain. He was used to Draco's possessiveness. He had watched his _foster brother _cling to Narcissa with the spoiled arms of a favored child. Why in the world Draco was clinging to him now was a mystery. It wasn't like he and Draco had ever been that close. They supposedly brothers, _twins, _but they had scarcely seen each other except when it was unavoidable like at meals and at outings. Other than that… they had never spent any of their free time together.

Harry had preferred not to. It wasn't like he was ever truly alone. When Lucius wasn't there overseeing his studies as his Lord's heir, his books kept him company. On the rare occasion that his father actually visited him, _well_, Harry was only too happy to let Voldemort pick his brain to see if the spawn of his seed was worthy of being a blood Slytherin. No matter what his father asked of him, he would do.

_I have a task for you, _said the floated letters that formed his father's thoughts. _Lucius__ knows. _Of course, Lucius was Voldemort's right hand man. _The details will be sent to you later. _This was a test then. _Do not fail. _He wouldn't.

The song had ended. Professor McGonagall was unrolling a long parchment as she announced, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry felt the scorn seeping from Draco. Again, where had the trademark Malfoy cold indifference gone? Their mother would be disappointed and Lucius would be coldly disapproving. Draco truly couldn't pull off the Malfoy façade as well as he would like to be. It was a pity because Draco **was** a _true_ Malfoy.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

He watched the boy that looked nearly the same as he did now. The expression on Draco's face was bored and expressionless. It was truly a look that his foster family cultivated to the extreme. His father had said there was much to learn from the Malfoys, and he had to admit that to learn to mask your feelings could come in very handy when your opponent could not.

No sooner had the hat been slipped onto Draco's head when the hat was yelling, "SLYTHERIN!"

A slight smirk graced Draco's smile. It was expected. Malfoys were always Slytherins. And he would be no different.

"Malfoy, Harry!"

He stepped up and sat down. The hat was placed onto him and _Look at what we have here. You are not really a Malfoy. _His shoulders tensed up; the book had not told him that the hat would know such things. _Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. Who listens to a hat? _He relaxed his body, but his mind was still not at ease. Where would he be sorted?

_You are truly complex, _the hat decided. _You've got the mind of a Ravenclaw, the determination of a Gryffindor, and the ambition of a Slytherin. You'd fit anywhere and yet… there's only one place for you… _"SLYTHERIN!"

-

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the wonderful feedback. I'm currently working on chapter 3, and chapter 2 is in final draft mode. I rewrote two scenes of chapter 1, and only after I had chapter 2 in final draft form was I comfortable with releasing this. I am wondering what you think of Harry's characterizations as well as Lucius, Draco, and Voldemort's. I am also curious how you like the way I've portrayed Neville, though I do think I need to have him show a bit more spine, eh? Commentary on Hermione and Ron would also be appreciated. Your feedback means a lot and it means this story continuing. Thank you.

-

_To all that made this chapter possible:_ The angelic vampire, bakachan17, Sierra, Kage Mirai, No Wood is not a stick, Al, LYK29, DarkKeeper, **Gen** (Voldemort marked Neville by controlling his grandmother, and that's all I'll say on that for now.), **Tracy Mintzmyer** (I like being the exception), Minathia, **Eaiva**** le Fay **(No, it does not. Though that is an interesting take. The prophecy deals with Voldemort and one of the boys, or both?), Sigma, Dreamer-3041, Witchy-Althea, **Ruth** (I write Fallen, but it won't be similar to Fallen), SheWolfe7, mishap, **TigerBlak** (Harry is not snobby nor is he light though I wouldn't say he's truly dark, at least not yet), PeachDancer82, JaninaQ, henriette, Draconisdagger2000, Mayhem El-Diablo, lighted eagle, Lasitar, Jade Malame, Dokuhebi, Menecarkawan, Cayden, **Xyverz** (read the entire thing again and carefully, and don't try to make assumptions and it should all be clear.), Danigirl, ProudSlytherin, riantlykalopsic, Cyn Wraith, **Cynicalkarma626** (no), Eccentric75885, BlackDiva, **watersreflection** (yes it's HP/DM and you are right, I haven't written a long HP/DM, though LILT is one of the stories I'm most proud of), Nafaerala, **zina** (I assume if you don't review, you don't like the story enough), Cmon, ura, Mrs Tom Riddle, **Mordicai** (Neville's grandmother is not the dark lord, she was under imperius), PxW, Silverfated, Shadowface, Winnie2, **Nefertare** (I realized after your review, I didn't really do a scene on it, but I did explain it. Look at the scene again more carefully. I inserted one sentence that explains it), KAT15, HecateDeMort, marshiamarish, ibcna, and Dewi.

-

_The next chapter features… **McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick**. Oh joy!_


	3. Chapter Two: Transfiguration, Potions, a...

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Beta'd by _Blackumbrage_.

_Draco__ note_: Draco does not know that Harry isn't his real twin. He believes that Harry is, and that is why he's extremely protective of Harry. However, it will eventually come out (in the next few years) that Harry isn't a real Malfoy.

Chapter 2  
_Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms_

A TABBY CAT was sitting on the desk staring at the empty seats with a look that screamed of disapproval. It didn't surprise Harry in the least when the door burst open and Ron Weasley _and _Neville Longbottom hurried into the classroom. He could feel Draco smirking superiorly next to him and he heard Ron cry out with relief, "Good luck, she's not here yet. Neville, could you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?"

Whatever Neville might have said was smothered when the cat on the table morphed into a very disappointed Professor McGonagall. To say that Harry was surprised would be a misnomer. He wasn't the least bit stunned. There had been something he had just _known_ that had told him that the cat on the desk was no ordinary cat. That the cat had turned out to be the animagus form of their Transfiguration professor only affirmed his innate feeling.

"Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley, I do not tolerate tardiness."

"We got… lost," Ron stumbled out lamely.

"Well then," McGonagall retorted, "do you need me to transfigure one of you into a map? I trust you don't need one to find your seats, do you?" She didn't have to gesture. There were two seats reserved for them next to the bushy hair girl, who didn't look happy that they had arrived late. Despite that, Hermione gave them a welcoming smile. How unusual that the three of them were already close friends, Harry thought.

"Look at them," he heard Draco whisper into his ear in disgust, "they're so cozy together already, it's despicably like Gryffindors. They're so trusting and impulsive that that's their undoing."

He knew that Draco didn't want a response. Draco wanted someone to listen to what he had to say, and Harry was more than willing to provide that for him. Draco did prove to be an excellent older brother when he was away from the judging eyes of the bitch. It had actually managed to surprise Harry, and Harry had been taught rigorously by Lucius to expect anything. That Draco turned out to care about him was unexpected but welcomed. He would rather have Draco as an ally than an enemy because even if he was the bitch's son, he was still Lucius's son too.

He remembered last night…

_"This," Draco pointed to him, "is my younger brother," his eyes shifted to the other boys in the room, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini, "and if you mess with him, you'll answer to me, do you understand?" _

_All the other three boys could do was nod their heads dumbly. It wasn't like they would have dared to touch a Malfoy, even a Malfoy that wasn't really a Malfoy that was pretending to be a Malfoy, Harry had thought then, but the thought that Draco was going out of his way to protect and care for him was touching in a way. It also made him curious as to why since the bitch hated his guts and he had always thought Draco more or less felt along the same lines. Actually, Draco seemed to feel nothing for him at all. _

"Bloody Merlin, we're going to be subjected to many a boring lectures today…" Draco muttered as his eyes riveted to the front of the room where McGonagall had gone to start the class since everyone had now finally arrived.

"Welcome to Transfiguration," McGonagall greeted them. "Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous and complex magic that you will learn at Hogwarts…"

-

HARRY LIKED SNAPE a lot. There was something about the brooding and vicious man that he just liked. He knew that Draco also had some affection for Snape, but he didn't know if it was because he really liked the Potions Master or because he felt like he ought to because Snape was his godfather. Whatever the case, Harry was looking forward to double potions even if it was with Gryffindor.

This time no one was late. Everyone was seated when Harry heard the familiar swishing sounds of Snape's billowing robes entering into the room with his tremendous presence. He wondered if Snape used a charm to get his robes to sashay like that. It was an elegant and powerful effect. But the most impressive effect was Snape's deep and baritone voice that commanded respect.

"Ah yes," Snape intoned carefully as he turned to face the class, "Neville Longbottom, our newest celebrity. The Boy Who Lived?"

He almost felt sorry for Neville, almost. It just wasn't in him to feel pity for anyone. It wasn't the type of emotion that his father nor Lucius had taught him. He had been strictly instructed to be cold, patient, rigid, controlled, indifferent, and a slew of other emotions but never ever sympathetic. However, he didn't feel that Neville's cringe was anything to sneer about as Draco obviously thought.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. His dark piercing eyes were quelling rebellion and inciting fear in his student's hearts. Harry was quite immune to the look, and when Snape turned it on him all he did was stare back. He saw a momentary flicker of bemusement in Snape's eyes, so transitory that if he didn't know every expression of Snape well he would have missed it or dismissed it as imaginary.

Why he knew every crevice of emotion that might occasionally flit across the Potion Master's face? Because it had been required of him by Lucius to memorize everything that he saw with accurate efficiency. He had been trained to recall things that he had seen only once. Lucius didn't care what he had to do to remember, but he had to remember _without _the aid of magic. It was lucky he was blessed with a good memory.

"Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, what do you get if I added powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"

The chubby boy flushed and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Mr. Malfoy," to erase any doubts of which Malfoy he was addresing, he looked directly at Harry, "would you like to answer the question?"

Harry's eyes glanced down demurely as he murmured, "It makes a sleeping potion that is so powerful that it is called the Draught of Living Death."

Snape's gaze shifted to his godson. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing," Draco answered clearly and superiorly. "They are the same plant and can also be called by the name of aconite."

"Well said," Snape responded. "Ten points _each_ to Slytherin."

Harry saw the smiles on the Slytherins and the frowns on the Gryffindors. He could almost hear the Gryffindors mumbling amongst themselves in the background about how Snape always favored his own house. Harry wanted to snort at that blatant misconception. It was true that Snape might be a bit kinder to his own house, wasn't McGonagall a bit kinder to hers? She hadn't punished Neville or Ron for being late other than to scare their wits. Besides, Snape had only generously awarded them points for answering questions that they ought not to know. Even if they had read their textbooks, it wouldn't have been until their 3rd year that they would have read up on the stuff he had inquired about.

"Five points _from _Gryffindor for talking in class," Snape snapped, his dark eyes burning with irritation in the direction of Ron Weasley who had been inadvertently talking much too loudly about the unfairness of a certain Slytherin Head of House.

The dolt was turning red in the face from anger when he should be embarrassed that he'd been caught gossiping. The redhead was such an idiot that Harry had to agree with the degrading look Draco was sending him. But the brown headed boy next to him was not, though he seemed to be overshadowed by the Weasley boy. The Weasley boy's personality was so strong that the Boy Who Lived's characteristics seemed much more understated.

It was a pity that Neville Longbottom was the enemy, Harry concluded. He probably would have made a nice friend. Too bad that as the enemy, he would have to die and thus lose his title as the Boy Who Lived.

-

_Harry,_came the words written from smoke, _my son._

"Father," he greeted solemnly.

_You are about to attend Hogwarts, is that not so?_

"You know that it is."

_Such impertinence, I would not tolerate it from my Death Eaters._

"I am your son, not a servant."

_Well said. _Harry could almost feel his father touching him.

"If there is something that you need to tell me, then you go ahead."

_Always business, isn't it? _Though there was no tone, the words hinted at amusement still. _Very well, there is a boy you will meet at Hogwarts. I want you to be aware that he is the enemy. You must study him carefully and learn all about him that you can. Don't underestimate him. _

Like his father had, Harry voiced in his head, knowing better than to say that aloud. "You're talking about that Boy Who Lived, aren't you father?"

_Yes._

"Neville Longbottom."

_Watch him. I need to learn all that I can about him. Remember the prophecy._

"I will. I swear it."

_Do that, _the smoke was fading. _We will discuss more later. _His father was gone.

-

"HARRY." SOMEONE WAS talking to him. "HARRY!" That someone was Draco. Harry didn't know anyone else that would dare to yell at him after his older brother had threatened bodily harm to anyone that did anything that he didn't like to him. Besides, that high pitch nasal voice only fit one person--- Draco. "HARRY MALFOY!!!"

Harry glanced at his _foster _brother with a bored look. "What?"

"It's time for Charms," Draco drawled innocently, not looking the least bit like he'd been shouting at his brother earlier. "You were zoned out. I thought it best to inform you that if we don't leave now, we'll be tardy to Professor Flitwick's class."

As if Draco really cared about getting to class on time or not, Harry snorted inside. It was a convenient excuse for Draco to raise his voice at him for a very good reason. He knew the way Draco's mind worked too well. He was afraid the Malfoy heir was becoming far too predictable. He would have to inform Lucius of that in his next letter. It would never do to become too predictable. "Very well," he responded. "Let's go then."

Harry allowed Draco to drag him through the crowd to Flitwick's classroom. The room itself wasn't as impressive as the Potions classroom, but it had better lighting than the Transfiguration room and thus had a better atmosphere. He was going to like this class, Harry decided. Everything he had read about Charms theory had been enlightening, but he hadn't actually done much practical work on the subject. Most of what his father and Lucius had taught him was geared toward the Dark Arts and as such, Harry surmised that he knew more curses than any 7th year walking through the hallway, even a 7th year Slytherin.

Flitwick, Harry also decided, wasn't an impressive figure despite standing on a tall stool so that he could gain added height. "Welcome! Welcome!" Flitwick greeted them cheerfully. It helped that he was enthusiastic, and it didn't seem to be a forced kind of show. Flitwick really seemed to enjoy his work. "The most important magic a wizard will learn is to levitate objects, so please repeat after me: _wingardium__ leviosa._"

They, thankfully, had this class separately from the other houses. Double Potions and double Transfiguration with Gryffindor was bad enough. What made it worse was that it was all in the same day as well. This was only going to add to the reasons that Charms was going to be one of the classes that he actually enjoyed going to, though Potions was only made endurable because of Snape. It also didn't hurt that Snape was most delightful when he was sneering at the Gryffindors. It was almost comical.

"Try it!" Flitwick encouraged. "That's what the feathers in front of you are for! And do practice the nice wrist movement we learned earlier."

Harry stared at his feather and lifted up his wand. It was weird that levitation was one of the spells he hadn't worked on. What Flitwick had said about the ability to lift things up being one of the most important spells did make sense. It was rather useful to be able to lift things up and move them with a wave of the wand. Killing people and hurting them, while useful to a sadist weren't of much use to everyday wizards, he reflected with dry irony.

Flicking his wand in the precise way that Flitwick had been teaching them, he whispered softly, _"Wingardium leviosa." _It didn't surprise him in the least when his feather started floating up into the arm without much difficulty.

"Well done, Malfoy!" Flitwick cried out. "Very well done."

What did surprise him was when Draco had difficulty with initially getting his feather to rise up. Watching Draco carefully, he soon found out the reason why the feather would flutter like it was about to float up and then just stop. His wrist movement was slightly off even though his pronunciation was impeccable. Gently, knowing of the impossible heights of Malfoy pride, he corrected Draco's wrist movement. "Like this."

Draco's eyes narrowed at him into silver slits, but he did what he suggested and said, "_Wingardium__ leviosa." _

When the feather rose up, Draco's expression softened a little but he still didn't look very happy. It took Harry a moment to realize why. Draco had just been shown up by his little brother; however, Draco had no way of knowing that Harry knew a great deal more magical theory than Draco did even though Draco had been taught a good deal before coming to Hogwarts. He would have to hide his knowledge better, Harry decided. It wasn't like the wrist movement that Flitwick had taught him was anything new. He had already known the correct angle and flicking motion since he was 5.

"Good job, both of you Malfoys," Flitwick commended. "Five points to each of you."

Now Draco was smiling, no smirking. Harry preferred that look of superiority on Draco's face rather than the intense concentration and frustrated look that had been on his foster brother's face earlier. It suited him more, as a Malfoy. "I guess," Harry mumbled, "I was lucky."

"No," Draco denied, this time really surprising Harry, "you just pay better attention."

-

"_LUMOS_," HARRY WHISPERED to himself from beneath the covers of his heavy blankets that were designed to keep out the cold in the drafty Slytherin dorms down near the dungeons. The spell lit his wand so that he could read the mail that had come in this morning that he had not gotten to read with Draco incessantly commenting in his ear every other minute about the idiocy of the Boy Who Lived.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Associated Wizards Press- On July 31, 2003 there was a reported attempt at a break-in at one of the Gringotts vaults. The goblins insist that nothing was taken and that the security of the bank is not in question. Earlier that very day the contents of the vault were emptied. When asked what was contained within the vault, the goblin representative said, "We aren't going to tell you what it was so keep your gossip tongues to yourself."

Whatever it must have been, it couldn't have been very big or very many of anything to have been taken earlier that very same day. Whoever had it must have known that his father was looking for it. The question was what the Dark Lord was looking for. It had to be something very important in resurrecting him into a body and possibly making him invincible. Harry pushed the paper aside and pulled one of the ancient texts that Lucius had given to him _for extra and necessary reading. _

There had been a reason he had been given all this. He had known his father would test him. This must have been the matter that Voldemort had wanted to discuss more with him later. All the pieces were falling together. Lucius had sent him the Daily Prophet and had given him the books, they were all clues. This was a test. If he asked either of them what they were after, it would be a failure and he would not fail.

"_Lumos__,_" he whispered fiercely, lighting his wand again so that he could peruse the books that Lucius had sent. Which to open first? All of them were old and he noticed quite a few of them were of wizard biographies. How curious that they were of that, considering Lucius had always focused his education on learning dark arts and such rather than magical history lessons.

When he picked up one of the books, a card slipped out. It was one of the cards you get from the popular chocolate frogs that he enjoyed upon occasion. It was curious that it was flagging a section of a book that was all about Nicholas Flamel. Picking up the card, he didn't think it was just a pointless bookmarker. This was also a clue, but what?

Albus Dumbledore was chewing on something looking ridiculous in his bright orange robes before winking out of sight. Harry's eyes drifted downward and he read the card as he had read it in the past when he had first gotten it when he was however many years old. It was nothing that he hadn't read before, but it was interesting that the card noted Nicholas Flamel and it was marking the very same pages.

The answer to the question had something to do with Nicholas Flamel. Now all he had to do was figure out what it had to do with the alchemist, specifically. It had to be big, and it had to be something that his father dearly wanted. And whatever it was, he would get it for failure was not an option.

-

**Author's Note:** I appreciate all the feedback. I'd like to know what you think of my slight changing of events and how you like what I did with Snape's introduction into the plot. Snape is _only_ Draco's godfather, there's another godfather for Harry thought that won't be made known until later who it is. You can feel free to guess as well as whom Harry's godmother is. Obviously, there's a few major dilemmas: (1) How does Voldemort get his body back? (2) Will Harry retrieve the philosopher's stone for his father? (3) Why did Neville survive the Avada Kedavra curse? (4) AND who is the last prophecy really about? Feel free to answer these questions in your review if you can't think of anything to say. At worst, it'll be to hear what you think and at best you might inspire me! Yay for that!

-

_To all that made this chapter possible:_ blackdragonofslytherin, **Alicorn1** (yes, I thought the favorite play would be an interesting take), **DarkKeeper** (Harry wears a Glamour when it's necessary, but not all the time), Emeline, shadowkiller, Chibi Sephy, **Lasitar** (As for Snape's loyalty, I won't know for a while as for the age of slash, at least 4th year or later), Gen, PeachDancer82, FugitiveShadow, Menecarkawan, Al, zina, **Allyanna** (Lucius keeps the glamour in the manor), Baby-Trix, HecateDeMort, AD, Danigirl, Cyn Wraith, **TigerBlak** (Thanks for the compliment on this Harry), henriette, Cayden, **The angelic vampire** (the people don't see Harry's scar, it's covered by his hair), **Jeanne** (Neville's survival's a good question), Mayhem El-Diablo, **Clion**** Roma** (the POV is always thru Harry or Draco so you won't really see any of the light side other than from a dark POV), **Eaiva**** le Fay** (you're getting way ahead of yourself, but feel free to voice your thoughts), Minathia, **silverrowan** (only one is destined, that's all I'll say on that), marshiamarish, Silverfated, Kage Mirai, AngelStar713, Kathy stggvk.

-

_The next chapter features… flying incidents of the Neville and Ron variety._


	4. Chapter Three: The Philosopher's Stone

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Beta'd by _Blackumbrage_.

Chapter 3  
_The Philosopher's Stone_

_THE FULL EXTENT of the known capabilities of the Philosopher's stone is unknown, but it is known that Flamel's genius creation will extend life into immortality…_

That was what his father was looking for and that was what had to have been in the vault and had been taken and now was missing. Harry still didn't know how this would help resurrect his bodiless father, but it would ensure Voldemort's life for the rest of his life when he did get his body back. There was no doubt he would; it was only a question of when.

The question that assaulted Harry now was where to find the blasted stone in Hogwarts. It had to be kept here, but where? And even if he did know where it was, there had to be numerous protection charms placed on the bloody stone to keep it from being stolen. It was going to be almost impossible, but nothing was ever truly impossible when he set his mind to it.

"Harry," Draco's piercing voice broke his thought, "it's time to get up." He rolled over to the other side away from Draco's voice, pretending to still be half asleep even though he had been up most of the night researching as he had been for the past week. "Harry, we've got flying lessons with Madame Hooch today."

"HARRY MALFOY!"

Harry was positive that the shriek had gotten everyone up that wasn't already awake, which meant the entire dorm was now roused from their pleasant slumber. He didn't know of anyone that woke up as early as Draco. Draco considered it necessary as to shower and get his hair all gelled back took much time and preparation. Harry was glad he wore a glamour, he didn't have to worry about his appearance. All he needed in the mornings was a quick shower and he was ready to go.

"I'm up," Harry declared with fake drowsiness, his legs dropping down to the ground. "I'm up, no need to shriek like a girl."

"I do not shriek like a bloody girl!" Draco exclaimed. 

It wasn't worth the effort arguing with Draco this early in the morning. However, the French boy, Blaise Zabini was happy to stoke Draco's anger, "Oh yes you do."

"DAMN IT, I DO NOT!"

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

-

"For the last time," Draco hissed, "I do not shriek like a girl."

It was unfortunate that at the very moment, Ron and Neville were passing by and their ears caught what Draco had said. Ron being the bold type, grinned from ear to ear at hearing that and added his input, "I do believe that I have to agree with Zabini here, you do sound awfully lot like a girl."

Draco's gray eyes were blazing with suppressed anger. "Who asked you, Weasley?"

Ron snorted, but his brown eyes weren't backing down from the challenge. "I was merely," he began innocently, "adding my opinion to your housemate's."

"And I do not appreciate it!" He took a step forward, his hand gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"Draco," Harry whispered warningly, not understanding why Draco was allowing anyone to get him riled up, "where are your Malfoy mannerisms?"

The terrible grip that Draco had on his wand relaxed enough that Harry knew Draco was reining in his temper. It was unusual for Draco to have such a short fuse, but it did seem that Ron Weasley rubbed Draco wrong in every possible way. It would be best, Harry decided, if he tried to avoid letting Draco come into any sort of contact with the red head. It was bad enough that their only double classes had to be with Gryffindor.

"Weasel," Draco uttered in a dark and dangerous voice, "do not interrupt a conversation that I am having with my twin, do you understand me?"

Ron wasn't backing down, if anything he took out his wand like the stupid foolish Gryffindor that he was. Before Harry could react, Draco was now pointing his wand at Ron. If something didn't happen soon, it wasn't only tempers that were going to explode, spells were too. Harry tried to pull Draco back, but Draco being slightly bigger than he was shoved him aside and stepped forward menacingly.

Harry was waiting for something dreadful to happen when Neville took the strange initiative by jumping in front of both of them. Harry thought it was foolish and brave of him since who knew what curses would be coming from Ron's or Draco's lips? His level of respect for Neville Longbottom increased and he understood why the shy boy might merit the level of fame that he had.

"Ron," Neville said, his voice neither shaky nor unsure, "put the wand down. You were the one that provoked him, and even if his response did perhaps merit this, it still isn't right. You were the one that insulted him."

Ron didn't look like he was backing down, but Draco allowed Harry to pull him back. However, Ron wasn't glaring daggers at Draco anymore. Instead he was looking at Neville with a torn expression that said that he knew what Neville was saying was right but he still didn't want to have to accept what Draco had called him. Even more than that, he didn't want to admit that he'd been in the wrong.

"Thank you, Neville," Harry said softly, forcing Draco to go with him in the direction of the field where they would be flying today under the guidance of Madame Hooch. He could still feel Draco's anger, but Draco had backed down enough hearing Ron's own friend tell him that he was wrong. But he knew that still wasn't going to appease Malfoy pride and he wanted to get Draco away from Ron and Neville before Draco demanded retribution.

"For what?" Neville called out with confusion.

Harry stopped moving. He didn't turn around, but he did feel like he ought to answer: "For stopping the fight, it was very brave of you."

He was certain that Neville was dumbstruck and Ron probably had his jaw dropped. Draco had stiffened by his side, quite a feat of bodily expression from a Malfoy when Malfoys were taught never to show any spontaneous emotion. All emotional displays were supposed to be done by wily calculation. That was the Malfoy way, and manipulation was the top game.

It was not in them to be kind either. Both of them had broken the rules.

-

THE FLYING LESSON was a complete waste of time in Draco's opinion. Madame Hooch was going over the basic fundamentals of using a broomstick, such stuff that he had been taught rom the time he could walk. The class was utterly boring the mind out of him, and he really didn't understand how his twin wasn't falling over in a complete boredom induced coma.

The only thing that provided salvation in this lesson was that since it was only a beginner's class, all the first years were gathered onto the field and Draco was able to see firsthand the advantages he had been accorded as a Malfoy. It seemed he was one of the few first years that knew how to handle a broomstick. Even the red-headed Weasel seemed to have difficulty getting the broom to rise for him with the _up _command.

That was surprising and was a source of endless amusement to Draco because it was a well known fact that Weasleys tended to be natural flyers. Wasn't his older brother Charlie one of the best Hogwarts seekers ever? And his older twin brothers were currently the beaters for the Gryffindor team. It seemed that the Weasel was taking after his older prefect brother, Percy, an utter incompetent on the broom.

It also pleased Draco to see that Miss Know-it-All Granger was having problems even getting her broom to go up. At least Weasel had managed to get his broom up after the third or was it the fourth time of saying _up_? Whatever the case, the mudblood witch still hadn't been able to get her broom to go up, which meant she was definitely not going to be a good flyer. It satisfied Draco immensely to know that she wasn't good at everything.

That was not the case of his twin, though. Draco watched as the broom effortlessly rose when Harry whispered, _"Up." _It had always irritated Draco, how much better Harry was than he at everything he did. But there was one thing Draco prided himself in that he was at least on Harry's level when it came to flying. He actually nursed the small chance that he was better than Harry, considering that Harry spent most of his time in the library studying the piles of books that their father left for him. With all the extra practice that he'd gotten while Harry had been walled up in the library, he had to be better than his brother.

A shrill whistle from Madame Hooch managed to get Draco to refocus his attention on the flying instructor. "Now," she commanded, "I want you to mount your brooms and use your legs to kick off into the air."

He had barely mounted his broom when he saw out of the corner of his eyes the Boy Who Lived's form zig-zagging out of control on the broom. Mentally he had to admire how fast the old and far out of date Cleansweep was going, but he also had to cringe at the lack of flying finesse he was seeing out of Longbottom. Really, could the boy do nothing right?

"Longbottom!" Madame Hooch cried out. "Get down here this instant!"

Easier said than done, Draco thought with wry amusement. He doubted that Longbottom had any control whatsoever over his broom. As he glanced over at the Gryffindor group to see how they were reacting, he saw there was deep concern for their fellow housemate. His gaze drifted over to Ravenclaw, and he saw the clever book inclined students were discussing what had caused the broom to act in such an unpredictable fashion. The Hufflepuffs like the Gryffindors were worried and anxious, and looked frightened. Draco was glad to see the Slytherins only looked mildly concerned.

It was only as his eyes were shifting back to Neville's haphazard form in the air that Draco's keen eyes caught sight of the Weasel kicking his broom awkwardly into the air. How foolishly brave of him, Draco thought sarcastically. From the way his broom was toiling in the air at the speed of a beached whale, he wondered how in hell the Weasel thought he was going to catch up to his wildly out of control housemate.

"IF YOU SHIFT YOUR WEIGHT FORWARD WEASLEY, YOUR BROOM WILL GO FASTER!" Draco was shocked to recognize the voice that was shouting the suggestion at the red-headed menace was in fact his own twin brother. Why in Merlin's name would Harry ever want to help the Gryffindor brat save another Gryffindor pest?

The Weasel didn't seem to know who had made the suggestions because Draco doubted that he would have followed it as quick as he had if he had known it had been made from a Slytherin. Draco did have to admit in a more mature part of him that the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was a tad immature and out of hand at times, but it wasn't like the Slytherins started everything. If anything, the golden Gryffindors were just as bad!

The Weasel's broom was going faster and unlike Longbottom, he had decent though a clumsy sort of control over his broom. He kept veering slightly more one way or another than he really wanted to go, but for a beginner, Draco had to admit grudgingly, he wasn't doing so badly. Given a bit of practice, he might actually end up decent. And his persistence was paying off because as the Weasel doggedly kept following Longbottom, Longbottom's broom veered into a statue with a sword sticking out that caught the Boy Who Lived by the robe.

There were horrified gasps all around as Longbottom teetered on the verge of falling to his death when Weasel reached him and grabbed his housemate's hand before the inevitable happened. Draco sneered to whoever would listen to him that the Weasel and the Golden Boy had unbelievable luck despite their inanities and clumsiness to get out of that scrape without injury. Inwardly, he thought practically what his brother voiced.

"It was a well done rescue, Draco," Harry remarked calmly, without the least bit of acid in his tone. "I don't think you could have done better."

Draco gritted his teeth. He hated when Harry was right.

-

HE HAD TO figure out where the philosopher's stone was. While only a month had gone by, time was of the essence. When he did find where the stone was, and he knew that he would--- he also had to figure out how to break the warding spells that would be guarding it. That would take a piece of work to accomplish. He dreaded to think of how much time that would take.

"Are you paying attention to me?" Draco's shrill voice broke through his conscious thought.

Harry nodded numbly, knowing better than to ignore Draco when Draco didn't want to be ignored. "You were talking about the Slytherin Quidditch team."

Draco smiled faintly, happy that he seemed to have been listening. Harry had learned to perfect the skill of pretending to listen to his foster brother blather his mouth away about a variety of topics, remembering to tune in a few times to discern the topic and some relevant details. "Our seeker is horrible, though the rest of our team is bloody good." Nodding his head in agreement was a good way to get Draco to keep talking without noticing he wasn't really focused on what he was saying. "Thank Merlin, he's a 7th year and will be graduating this year. Maybe next year we'll finally have a _decent_ seeker."

His deliberate emphasis on a certain word caught Harry's attention as he knew that Draco thought of himself as a very good seeker. Harry had to admit that Draco was a superb flyer, though the fact that Draco always had the best broom available on the market probably had something to do with it. He wondered how good Draco would be if he had to put up with the older Cleansweep models that some of the current Quidditch players were sporting. 

"Bloody staircase shifted again," Draco cursed. "Now we're going to be late to Defense with that stuttering fool Quirrell."

Grabbing the railing to regain his balance, Harry noted that the entrance they were currently at wasn't one of the ones they'd ever been at before. It was strange that they had never seen it before, he decided, because he had thought that they would have seen most of the castle by now with the way that Draco had dragged him around at night with the Invisibility Cloak he'd gotten from his mother. He had started to walk up the rest of the steps to the mysterious entrance when he felt Draco grab his wrist.

"This is the forbidden third floor corridor," Draco told him, a bit of fear of being found in his voice. "We shouldn't be here."

Now he was even more intrigued, but he knew better to show it. If Draco was fearful in being discovered, then he'd better follow along in suit. Nothing ticked Draco off more than knowing that Harry wasn't scared of something that he was. Harry had remembered as a child seeing a dragon on a trip to Romania and not being scared and Draco had been… Draco had thrown the mother of all tantrums afterward that wasn't appeased until Harry had confessed that he had been quite frightened. He could come back here later, even if he had to force the stairway to let him up here again.

"I didn't know." And nothing pleased Draco like knowing something that Harry didn't, Harry realized early on. Draco liked being superior to him, probably because Lucius was always praising him on his magical efforts and Draco would for once like to show him up.

"That's because you never pay attention to what's being said," Draco sneered. "Dumbledore told us that during the Welcoming Feast."

Harry had been too busy thinking about other pressing matters to even think about what Dumbledore had been saying. He actually should have been paying closer attention to what the old coot had said. It was just like that sly though seemingly silly doddering wizard to give such a significant hint of where the philosopher's stone must be; in plain sight. He had to give his father's old nemesis credit; the zany wizard was brilliant in his guise of being mad and harebrained.

And he truly hoped that the crazy old wizard thought that giving the location of where he was hiding the stone as a dreaded warning would sound like something so dully school-related that no one would think that the stone could possibly be there. It did make sense to him, after all he hadn't even been paying attention and hadn't even heard it. What if he had? Would he have dismissed it at that time because he hadn't known about the existence of the stone? Probably.

But not now. Now he knew and he was determined to find the stone, though what his father intended to do with it, he had no clue. It wasn't like the stone could restore Voldemort into the body that he had lost when a spell he had cast had gone terribly wrong. Or did his father know something about the stone that he didn't know? He would need to borrow Draco's invisibility cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section and see if he might find any more books that might help divulge that vein of thought. But that could wait. Tonight he would use the cloak to discover the secrets behind the third floor corridor that was _forbidden. _

-

**Author's Note:** Sorry that this took two weeks to get out. I'm working on Chapter 4 as I'm typing this. I don't know when it'll be out. Probably next week if things turn out well, if not the week after that. I'm trying my best to get this out ASAP but I'm sort of not quite sure where I'm going. Anyway, any feedback is highly appreciative. Any thoughts on what might happen that might spark my muse would be invaluable. Thanks.

-

_Thanks to all the reviewers, I do appreciate it. I don't have time to answer questions this time because I'm busy trying to write the next chapters of Serpentine, Paradox of Being, and To the Point of Exhaustion. I best get back to it! _


	5. Chapter Four: Three Headed Dilemma

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Not beta'd

Chapter 4  
_Three Headed Dilemma_

THE THREE HEADED dog was going to be a problem, and a very severe problem at that. He had barely escaped getting injured by the three pair of jaws that had been after his flesh and bones. But he had found what he had been after. Now he was positive that the stone had to be what the bloody hound was guarding. It had only been at the last moment that he had caught sight of the trapdoor that had been beneath the paws. It was the second time that night he had thanked his foster father for the rigid training regiment that he had been put under. Not only had he been quick on his feet to get out of the sodding mutt's way, but he had never lost his concentration nor his attention to detail.

"Harry," Draco snapped, not happy that he wasn't delivering the amount of attention that was required when the Malfoy heir was speaking to him it seemed, "you almost walked into the filthy mudblood."

It was only then that Harry noticed that he had indeed almost run into the Granger girl, and though he managed to avoid it--- some of her books had scattered onto the floor. He saw the two crimson stains flame up her cheeks, and he also noticed that she seemed to be very much by herself. Longbottom and Weasley weren't anywhere in sight and it was blessing too because he didn't think that Weasley would take too kind to a Slytherin insulting anyone from his house even if it was a know-it-all.

Seeing as Draco was certainly not going to lower himself to help the muggleborn girl, Harry dropped to his knees besides her and quickly gathered up her books for her. He could hear Draco's gasp of surprise and could only imagine the shocked expression on the face of Narcissa's son. "I apologize," Harry murmured, "I did not see you, Granger."

"It's all right," she responded, and he noted the surprised nuance of her voice. "Thank you."

"It was my fault, so there is no need to thank me," Harry replied courteously, but his voice was coolly neutral with a well-bred politeness that Draco seemed to appalling lack when he was dealing with anyone that he thought was beneath the dirt he walked on. His foster brother would do well to learn some cold manners that he knew Narcissa had in spades. Draco was in ways very much his mother's son, but there were differences in Draco especially in that he was much more emotionally bound than his mother and that seemed to be an inheritance from Lucius.

"Uh… I need to go to class," she blurted and then ran off in the opposite direction that they were headed. Harry assumed that she must be off to Defense, which had been the class they had just come from. If that were the case, then he pitied her. Professor Quirrell's stutter was enough to grate on anyone's nerves, even ones that had been desensitized by Cruciatus.

Draco tugged on his arm forcefully. "Come on Harry, let's get to class." Harry didn't need to look at Draco's face to know that his foster brother was annoyed by the courtesy he had shown the muggleborn Gryffindor. "I don't see why," Draco complained to him in a low whisper, "why you're so polite to her."

"One day, she's going to be a very powerful witch."

-

HE HAD FOUND no way to get past the three headed beast yet. It was infuriating how close to serious injury that he had gotten. He had been close to minor ones, but a small scratch he could endure under some pain potions that he brew in an empty classroom that he had found that miraculously had all the supplies that he needed to make the potion he required.

It had been his whatever number attempt in whatever number of days. He also had to contend with the problem of getting past both Filch and Snape to get to the forbidden corridor to try his luck. Though he didn't think that Snape would punish him for being out after curfew, it would probably make the Potions Master curious as to why he was out of bounds. It would be best for him if no one was the least bit suspicious of him. Being overly cautious had put a hitch to his plans to though. He wasn't going to get to the stone before the holidays.

He had tried hinting to Lucius that he might like to remain at Hogwarts, but Lucius had told him in a blunt letter that he had to return to Malfoy Manor. It would not do for Draco to come back home and for him not to. If he was going to stay, then Draco would have to stay too and Narcissa wouldn't even consider that option. That bitch was going to have hell to pay when he resurrected his father into the flesh again.

"Aren't you glad to be going home?" Draco inquired aloud as they both were lying on their backs on their respective beds. "No more stupid foolish Gryffindors, no more snoring Crabbe and Goyle, and no more criticizing Zabini."

"Aren't you forgetting the schoolwork?"

"Yes! And no more miserable schoolwork to do!" Draco exclaimed. "This Christmas is going to be the best yet. I can't wait to see what presents I've got. Aren't you excited Harry? Wouldn't it be wonderful if we both got the new Nimbus 2000 for our presents?"

Harry shrugged. He could care less about going back to Malfoy Manor, of getting presents, or anything of that sort. All that he cared about was not to fail his real father, not that Draco knew that Lucius wasn't really his father. Draco really did believe that Harry was his twin, though didn't Draco think it was a bit odd that they had never been instinctively close like more twins were reputed to be?

"I can't believe you aren't excited!" Draco sounded appalled.

"There are more important things in life than Nimbus 2000s."

"But not many that are faster or sleeker in model!"

"You are too materialistic."

Draco smirked. "And gorgeous."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you started packing yet?"

"Of course! I'm done. Have you?"

He had other things to do than pack. Besides, he knew if he waited long enough that Draco would end up doing it for him rather than risk being delayed in going home with the earliest group of students. "No," Harry admitted, "I haven't. It's late. I can pack in the morning."

Draco's eyes widened. "You must pack now!"

Harry yawned. "I'm sleepy."

Draco glared at him and threw a pillow. "Sleepy head."

Harry grabbed the pillow and tucked it underneath his head. He was sleepy. He hadn't got much in the past few months and he was fully going to take advantage of tonight and sleep. It wasn't like he was going to get anywhere exploring possibilities now that he wasn't staying for the holidays. And when he heard shrinking charms going off all around him, he knew he had been the master of manipulation. Draco was packing for him.

He was a _true_ Slytherin.

-

ONE OF THESE days, he would like to tell Narcissa to her face how much he loathed her. He was thankful he had finally escaped the bitch and her bitching. She derived too much pleasure in criticizing him. Like how he was never as wonderfully turned out as her Draco was. Of course he wasn't, no one could be as well turned out as Draco. Draco spent hours in front of the bloody mirror to accomplish that.

He took a deep breath of relief as he was finally able to cancel out the glamour charm he had been wearing for months on end. He had forgotten how good it felt to be in his own skin again without any charms cast over them. Even though a glamour charm was far more comfortable than a Polyjuice body, it was still not as comfortable as being without it. There was a heaviness attached to the charm no matter how good it was cast nor how much power was put into it. It weighed on the wearer.

"You looked good as a Malfoy," Harry could recognize Lucius's voice anywhere, "but you look right as a Riddle."

Harry smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He did look quite a bit like his father, didn't he? He had the same dark hair that tended to curl in an unruly fashion. He had the very same fine nose that seemed aristocratic. And he had his father's cheekbones. But his eyes, his eyes were his mother's. He wished he had gotten the chance to know his mother. It was too bad that she had died in childbirth.

"Thank you."

"It's good to have you back at the Manor, Harry."

Harry nodded solemnly. He wasn't exactly unhappy to be back. He enjoyed his conversations with Lucius. He also enjoyed the immense book collection that was stored in the Library, something he fully intended to make use of while he was home for the holidays. There had to be something about the philosopher's stone in one of the tomes. And then there was the expectation of speaking to his father…

"It's good to be back."

-

_Harry._

It was his father. Voldemort. "Father."

_My son.___

The greeting was always the same. "I know what you expect of me." Harry knew better than to hide what he knew from his father. "I will retrieve the philosopher's stone for you at the year's end."

_I expect no less. _

"Father," he hesitated at first, but he had to assuage his curiosity, "may I ask a question?"

_You may._

The questions were burning, but he knew which he had to ask. "Will the philosopher's stone resurrect you?"

_No._

"Then…"

_It will give me immortality. _

He knew that, but there had to be another reason for wanting the stone. The other unknown properties… "But…"

_Think on that, Harry. We will talk more next time._ The swirl of words faded and Harry knew Voldemort had gone. He was alone again, and he was as confused as ever. But his father had given him clues, vague clues but clues nonetheless. He would think on it.

-

CHRISTMAS DIDN'T GO by slow enough for Draco's taste. At the beginning of the holidays, he had been determined to reconcile his twin with their mum but to no avail. Neither mum nor Harry would give an inch. They would be civil in each other's presence, but the underlining animosity and dislike was obvious. Draco didn't understand. They were mother and son; they ought to get along better. Why didn't they share the relationship that he and mum shared? Even his relationship with their father wasn't as strained as Harry's and their mum. It was strange.

"We're already back at Hogwarts," Draco remarked with distaste.

"The holidays are over," Harry stated simply. "Now it is time to get back to work."

"You and work," Draco muttered. "You ought to have spent more time with _us_," he emphasized deliberately, "rather than hiding yourself in the bloody library all the time. You have excellent grades. I don't understand why you need to study. You're easily tops in all the classes we're taking. You don't need the extra studying. You could probably breeze through the entire seven years at Hogwarts without cracking open a book. We know much more than what is being taught here."

"It is the Malfoy motto," Harry murmured, "to be the best and always the best."

That true, what his twin was saying. But that didn't mean that Harry needed to study ever single second of every single day. It was also a Malfoy motto to take the fullest of life and seize it. "You are also forgetting our other motto, brother," Draco drawled. "Seize what life offers. You are holing yourself up with your books and not making the most of seizing what is there. What kind of Malfoy are you?"

Harry shrugged carelessly. "A better one than you."

Draco narrowed his eyes. He didn't need the verbal reminder from Harry what he could feel his mum hinting at. Mum had told him in a circumvented manner that he wasn't behaving like Lucius's eldest son. He wasn't behaving like _the _Malfoy heir. He had seen his father glancing at him more than once in a speculative and thoughtful manner through the holidays. He wasn't measuring up to Harry. Harry acted more like the Malfoy heir than he did, even if he was the elder.

"Harry…" he growled warningly.

"I'm going to the library," Harry announced nonchalantly. "Are you coming or not?"

He had no choice but to follow.

-

THE BOOKS ON three-headed dogs were of no use. There wasn't much on them other than the obvious. That three-headed dogs were rare, dangerous, and excellent guards. What Harry really wished to know was what had to be unobvious? Like how to soothe a three-headed dog such that it would let a person by to see whatever it was hiding. The only good thing that he had going for him was that he already knew what the damn dog was hiding. The question was how to get it.

He might inquire from the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, that old miser had to know but he didn't want to draw any suspicions toward him. He had seen the way the Headmaster had looked at him, really looked at him and he had the idea that Albus Dumbledore knew that there was something slightly off about him. Had the sorting hat told his secret?

It might be dangerous for him if Dumbledore knew that he wasn't really a Malfoy, that instead he was the last heir of Slytherin--- at least until he could resurrect his bodiless father. He knew quite well the rivalry that Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort had shared. The headmaster had been on the side of the light and his father had been on decidedly on the dark side. But what could Dumbledore do to him? That was an interesting thing to think on. It wasn't like Dumbledore could expel him for doing anything wrong only for being the son of the Dark Lord. And that was plain discriminatory.

Hardly acceptable behavior for a highly respected headmaster as Albus Dumbledore most assuredly was. Harry decided not to concern himself with whatever Dumbledore might do. If Dumbledore did anything, well then, he knew that his foster father could deal with him. After all, wasn't Lucius the well positioned Governor of the School? If there was anyone that had at least the amount of power that Dumbledore had over Hogwarts, it was Lucius Malfoy.

And he could trust Lucius to make sure nothing happened to him.

He slammed the book shut loud enough to garner a glare from the librarian. He inwardly scowled, though outwardly he smiled apologetically. It would never to do have the librarian mad at him. He needed to be the definition of a courteous and respectful student, a student that all teachers liked. Well, except for one, he thought with narrowing eyes, Professor McGonagall. For one that was supposedly fair, she definitely did not like Slytherins very much, even a polite and kind one like he was.

Replacing the book back onto the shelf, he decided it was time that he asked for help. He was getting no closer and the end of the school year was drawing close. There was no time to waste.

-

_Father,_

_I need your help. _

_Harry._

_-_

_My son,_

_Ask and you shall receive. _

_Father.___

_-_

"TROLL!" QUIRRELL EXCLAIMED. "Troll in the dungeon—thought you ought to know." The stuttering professor sank into a dead faint. Somehow, Harry found it hard to be surprised.

Well it seemed what he had asked for had arrived. He needed a distraction, and a distraction he got. He hadn't known what form it would be in, but Lucius had reassured him that it would be unmistakable when the opportunity presented itself. Indeed, it was quite obvious. It was unfortunate that he still had not discovered how to calm the damn three-headed dog yet. It looked like he was going to get to try several ideas though… and hopefully not get his head bitten off.

Everyone around him was panicking and it was not making it easy for him to slip away to the third floor corridor without being seen. Problem, problem, he thought with increasing agitation. "Silence!" Dumbledore exclaimed from his spot at the head table. Never had Harry ever thought he'd ever be grateful to the old coot. "Prefects! Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

This was his opportunity. All he had to do, as he mentally allowed himself to be dragged by Draco toward the Slytherin dorms, was to detach himself from Draco's grasping arms and get away without attracting too much attention to his person. That would be easily accomplished; he highly doubted that Draco would risk his own neck to save anyone's, even his twin's.

Pretending to stumble, he fell to his knees and to his absolute shock Draco stopped, turned, and when he saw that he was on the floor, barreled his way back against the flow of survivor-minded Slytherins to his side. "Now is not the time to display your un-Malfoyish awkwardness," Draco snapped in his typically critical tone. Harry saw that Draco wasn't going to leave him here and when Draco's arm started descending toward his wrist to yank him to his feet, he knew he had no choice but to…

"_Praesieo-sedi-ere_," he whispered softly enough that no one would hear but forcefully enough that the lesser sister spell of Imperius would work. It didn't quite have the power of the Unforgivable command, but Harry didn't expect Draco to have the resistance of mind to repel the attack when he wasn't expecting it. As he predicted, Draco had a slightly glazed look in his eyes that said he was under Harry's complete power. "Go back to the dorm and if anyone asks for me, tell them I'm in my bed sleeping and make sure that if they check that you've spelled a disturb-me-not charm on my bed to distract any possible visitors. _Now go_."

Draco went, and Harry had a dog to deal with.

-

**Author's Note:** Let me know how this chapter went. This has been done for over a month, but I was waiting for my beta to get to it. Obviously, she isn't so I decided to go ahead and release it anyway. I hope you enjoyed it and I desperately need feedback so I know whether or not to continue this. The next chapter has been stuck in a midway point for the last month and a half. Thanks for any feedback and I'd loved to know what you think will happen next! Thanks.


	6. Chapter Five: The Mirror of Erised

**SERPENTINE  
**By Yih

Not beta'd

Chapter 5  
_The Mirror of Erised_

THE DAMN DOG had bitten him good and bitten him hard. He was bleeding and he was thankful it was only a superficial wound. It was his luck that the last book he had read over the holidays had been a tome on healing charms. He had figured they might come in handy in case he met with a jaw disaster, as it had come to be to his disgusted delight.

He charmed the leg to stop bleeding and managed to get back to his dorm in good order, to find out that Draco had done exactly what the sister spell of Imperius would have made Draco do. Before Harry dissolved the praesieo-sedi-erespell, he made sure to add memories to Draco's mind that would gloss over the events and cause Draco to remember them the way he wanted him to remember them.

Having dealt with that issue, he got then proceeded to heal the leg as best as he could, though it still ached a bit but it wasn't anything a numbing potion couldn't fix. Despite the displeasure received from the bite, he had finally hit upon the method of calming the beast down. It had taken several tries and he had nearly gotten more than his leg snapped at. It had paid off though. Who would have thought music, his last method, would have proven to be the key to calming the three-headed terror down?

By the time he had figured that out, he had wasted too much time and was losing too much blood. He needed to get back to the dormitories before things became suspicious. However, he knew now and all he had to do was to bide his time and then… then things would start to fall into place and his father would be pleased, immensely pleased.

"AND THE SNITCH is released!" cried out the announcer, a biased boy from Gryffindor by the name of Lee Jordan. "Representing the glorious Gryffindor team is Captain and Keeper, Oliver Wood as well as three stunning and talented…"

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall snapped a warning verbalized in every nuance of those two syllables that made up his surname.

"The three Gryffindor chasers are: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell! The two beaters are the Weasley twins, Fred and George and our new seeker is their little brother, Ron Weasley!"

"I can't believe," Draco spat, "that Weasel is on the team as a _first year._"

Harry had been hearing about this nonstop for the past week since word had gotten around the school that the Gryffindor's new seeker was a first year by the name of Ron Weasley. Draco still couldn't get over that the red headed Gryffindor was on the Quidditch team before he was. Harry could almost understand the sentiment; after all he knew that Draco was a much better flyer than Weasley. However, the facts were that Slytherin's Quidditch team had a perfectly good 7th year seeker and Gryffindor's team was sorely lacking one. It wasn't a wonder Weasley had made the team, as there was a lack of viable options.

"Johnson has the quaffle and she passes it to Spinnet who fakes to the right and scores in the leftmost ring in brilliant fashion! Ten points for Gryffindor! Oliver Wood has surely got a team that can cinch the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor!"

Harry wasn't really paying attention to the commentary or the irritated expression on Draco's face. Instead, he was lost in his own thought about when he was going to try to steal the philosopher's stone. He figured that tonight would be as good of a night as any. If Gryffindor won, as he assumed they would be--- Gryffindors would undoubtedly be celebrating while the Slytherins would be commiserating. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs? They might even join the Gryffindor celebration considering the anti-Slytherin mode the houses had. Either way, it was a significant plus for him.

With all the students celebrating, the professors would have to be on the watch out for any wild antics and that would leave the forbidden corridor hopefully unguarded. Regardless, Harry planned to make use of his invisibility cloak to the fullest and this was the biggest distraction he'd get from what he planned on doing for a long, long time.

"And Gryffindor wins the match 180 to 70! Ron Weasley really pulled through when he accidentally caught the snitch in his mouth! What an excellent addition the youngest Weasley will be to the Gryffindor team. What…"

And so it was as he expected…

* * *

GETTING PAST THE dog was not a problem. It was funny how a simple thing like music would send the beast into the kingdom of dreams. He never would have thought of that if he hadn't read about it. Whoever disparaged the weapon of the written word didn't know how much damage or how much of an aid they could be.

The Devil's Snare had been ridiculously simple. Harry had expected a bit more of a challenge even if it was Professor Sprout. The key was a bit more challenging, and he was glad that he was as good at flying as he was because it took all the skill he had. It didn't matter so much that the key had a broken wing and wasn't flying as swiftly as it might have, but that the other keys were deterrents.

Now he was standing on a chess board. The challenge was getting harder, and this was difficult. It would put to test his strategic ability. He was looking forward to seeing if he could get past this. "Pawn to B3."

"Knight to A5."

He had lost a few men. He needed his queen to get into position, and when that happened then the game would be his as long as his opponent didn't see what he was doing. He didn't think his unknown enemy would. He'd used this particular move several times, and no one had ever caught up. That was unless he'd played them several times, and even then it was hard to counterattack.

"Queen to F7."

"Checkmate."

Now it was time to proceed forward. He'd gotten past Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall. There was only Snape and Quirrel to face, and which was next? He stepped through the passage way and flames immediately sprung up on both of the exits. When he saw the bottles on the table, he knew exactly where the next challenge came from. When he read the missive, he had to silently applaud Snape. It was logical and downright clever.

Wizards were not logical. Some of them were like Dumbledore, and the others weren't half as brilliant. He knew reading it which one it was. It only took some careful mental deductions after reading it through a few times. It was the tiny bottle. In it, he saw--- was enough for one good swallow.

He drained it and ran through the black fire. Ice was in his veins and it combated the fierce flame. He was through and he expected another challenge… in a mirror? He stopped and stared carefully at it. He had never seen a mirror like this before. He read the title and it said "Erised."

Interesting name. He had never encountered a mirror like this before. And he thought that there was every type of mirror that could be imaginable at Malfoy Manor. His foster family certainly enjoyed looking at themselves when possible. But he'd never seen this type of mirror nor read about it either. Curious as it what it did. It had to do something. And whatever it did, he knew that it had something to do with the philosopher's stone.

He looked into the mirror.

At first he didn't see anything that would make him suspect that this mirror was anything that extraordinary. But after he blinked, he began to see what made this mirror so special. He was seeing something he knew that couldn't be real. It had to be a dream or a fantasy. It was his mother. He knew it had to be his mother because she had his green eyes, and he had never seen his shade of eye on anyone before. It was breathtaking, seeing her for the first time. He wondered if this mirror was the gateway to another realm of being.

The afterlife, possibly? After all, his mother was dead.

He blinked again, and when his eyes refocused he saw a man that had to be his father. Voldemort looked quite a bit like him, though his hair was more unruly than the Dark Lord's. But the firm jaw and the fine nose he saw he had inherited from his father. His cheeks were purely his mother's as well as his mouth. He was a good mix of both of his parents. And it was a reverie to see them both together, holding hands and smiling down _at him. _

So it wasn't a gateway then. This had to be an illusion of whatever he wanted most… whatever he…

"You shouldn't be here."

Harry whirled around. He didn't know who he expected to see, but he definitely hadn't been thinking that it would be Dumbledore. This wasn't good. He should have been more careful. He shouldn't have allowed himself to be sucked into the mirror's illusions… delusions. He shouldn't have let himself yearn for something like that. It had wasted precious time. Time that he couldn't afford.

"Come with me, Harry."

He had no choice. Dumbledore had caught him and whatever a crazy coot he might be, he was the strongest wizard alive until he could resurrect Voldemort again. Only 'til then.

He went.

* * *

THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE was nicer than Harry expected it to be. It was as nice as some rooms at Malfoy Mansion, and that was rather curious considering the odd character that Albus Dumbledore was. Harry would have expected the décor to match the personality of the kooky wizard, being bright, flamboyant, and positively wacko. It was none of those things.

"Please take a seat."

Harry knew it was hopeless to refuse.

"I think it would be best that we get to the point."

Harry nodded, but was distracted by the beautiful sight that was a phoenix in flight.

"I'd like to know what you were doing there."

He'd been thinking about what he was going to say in way of explanation to Dumbledore on the way to his office. He was going to lie, and he was going to do a brilliant job of telling a fib. He had confidence in his ability to twist words around into believable scenarios. But the phoenix wasn't going to make it any easier. The mystical bird was going to make it that much harder.

Phoenixes represented all that was good, noble, and true.

None of which, he understood. "I was curious about the third corridor," he murmured in a hesitant tone. "I just wanted to find out why it was forbidden."

"Surely," Dumbledore responded with his blue eyes peering heavily into Harry's, "you must have realized the danger of the circumstances that you found yourself in, Mr. Malfoy. Didn't you realize that it would have been best to turn back when you found yourself confronted with a Cerberus? But no, you persisted in going through the trapdoor. Why is that?"

"The thrill of the forbidden," Harry stated softly. He lowered his eyes and then raised them until they were locked onto Dumbledore's. "The adventure of it."

"I don't believe that it was merely for that."

"It's the only answer in which I can give you."

Dumbledore stroked his phoenix's head with a gentle caress. "Do you know what danger you were in Harry?" Harry thought it wise not to answer. "The dangers you got past were in themselves potentially lethal, but from all that I've heard about you--- you seem to be a bright young man. However, I would know many students that wouldn't have been able to get past those perils. What you've done is extraordinary, but as dangerous as what you accomplished was… it was the mirror that is the most perilous." He paused. "Do you know what you were looking into?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't.

"The mirror shows you, the viewer, your deepest and most wanted desire. Men and women have wasted their lives in front of it, captivated by its impossible allure. If I had not been there, do you think you possibly could have taken your eyes off it?"

Harry wasn't certain if he could have. The pull of the mirror had been powerful.

"That is why the third corridor is forbidden, and _whatever_ reason you had for going there, I must ask you not to do so again. The mirror is dangerous, Harry, and it wouldn't be wise for the brilliant future that you have ahead of yourself for you to jeopardize that by wasting your life in front of it. You do understand, don't you?"

He wasn't going to get another opportunity to retrieve the stone if it was still even there. Dumbledore was going to make sure of that, whether or not he thought that Harry knew what was being hidden there. It was possible that Dumbledore would connect him with wanting the philosopher's stone. It was well known that Lucius Malfoy had been a follower of the Dark Lord's, no matter if it had been documented to be under the Imperius curse or not. It wouldn't be leap to imagine that his son was looking for the stone for Voldemort except that it was really Voldemort's son.

"I understand."

"Jolly good, would you like a lemon drop or some tea?"

"No thank you."

* * *

"WHERE THE BLOODY hell have you been?" Draco demanded as soon as Harry walked into the dormitory. "Do you know how dangerous it was to wander with a fucking troll on the loose?"

Draco was shaking in anger and he was shaking Harry. There was a nervous twitch in his eye that he had whenever he got especially emotional. It was one of his few inheritances from his mother. Narcissa had a twitch like that whenever she was in a tizzy with Lucius, which was rare enough. Narcissa did quite adore her husband, much like Lucius quite adored his wife. Overall, Draco was pretty much a carbon copy of his father. It almost made Harry cringe to see Draco looking so ferocious.

Telling the truth seemed to be the only way to appease Draco's anger. "I was at the Headmaster's office."

Draco stopped the violent back and forth movement and just stared at his twin. "What?"

"I was at the Headmaster's office," Harry repeated blandly.

"I heard you the first time!" Draco exclaimed. "Why were you with Dumbledore?"

"We had a meeting."

"For three hours?!"

Had it really been that long? "If that is how long it's been, then I suppose so."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will then, I'm going to bed." Harry stepped away from his foster brother and moved to go to his bed when Draco grabbed him by the wrist hard and jerked him back. He turned around and glared at Draco in a way that had never failed to get Draco to back down. "Let go."

"No." Draco only tightened his grip. "I hate all these secrets that you keep from me. We're brothers; you should tell me where you've been. I've been worried sick for you. Who knew if you weren't injured somewhere before that stupid Weasel knocked the troll out? We're not only brothers, we're twins."

Harry wanted to laugh harshly and tell Draco that _no_ they were not, but he couldn't. Instead, he forced himself to try to feel grateful that Draco was worried about him. But all he felt was irritation. He wanted to get to his bed and to run the day's events over in his head, to try to think what he'd done that had made everything go terrible wrong. He also needed to start planning on how he would try to tell the Dark Lord about his failure.

"There's nothing to say. Dumbledore kept me in his office for a meeting about how my classes were going, if they were too easy and whatnot since I was doing so well."

"And it lasted three hours?"

"He was away for an hour or so dealing with the troll incident and he told me to wait in his office, but it seems so," Harry stated calmly. "And it's been a long tiring day; I'd like to get some sleep. Will you please let go of my arm?"

Draco let go, but his stance was rigid as he allowed Harry to get into his bed. Harry slid into his bed and didn't even bother to change into his pajamas, just burying his head into his pillows in a practiced gesture that said he really was as he said, worn. He mentally counted down the few minutes that it would take before Draco's shadow would be removed from his presence.

It took the typical ten minutes before Draco was satisfied that he was sleeping. He shifted his position and waited another half hour until his foster brother fell asleep. He sat up in his bed and stared out at the window. He didn't understand how Dumbledore could have realized that he was there unless there was a trigger that he'd tripped over? Whatever the case, he'd failed to get the philosopher's stone and he wasn't going to get another chance.

Knowing Dumbledore, it probably wasn't at Hogwarts anymore.

But what really irritated Harry was that he was unlikely ever to see that mirror again. It was the only time he had ever seen his mother. And she was just as he had always imagined her to be.

His beautiful mother… he thought as he slumped backwards onto his bed and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I realize that the events in this chapter are quite a bit different from the book. I intended it to be that way as some things will have to change to get this story to work. Obviously, there will be an eventual more telling confrontation with Harry and Dumbledore, but how did the first one go? And how do you like Draco's attitude w/ Harry? Reviews are always helpful. I'll probably be working on POB next.


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